The Oath Breaker: A Novel of Germania and Rome (Hraban Chronicles Book 1)

by Alaric Longward

  She nodded. 'Few warriors know as much. Many vitka do not know, Hraban. Listen to what Argantion, my grandmother said.' Her voice changed subtly as she recited her grandmother's sight.

  ‘The Bear will roar, beware you gods, for time has come to break the bars, sunder the rules, break the words.

  The road from the shadow will begin, the Raven to bleed on the evil, rocky skin.

  A sister, a brother, wrongful act share, a deed so vile, two children will she bear.

  The Raven will find the sister, the gods to look on as blood spills onto the Woden's Ringlet.

  A raven will show the way, a bear is slain, cocks will crow, men feel pain.

  Youngest sister's blood is needed, her heart rent, onto the plate of Woden, her life is ended.

  Released is the herald, the gods will bow.

  After doom, life begins anew. A selfless act may yet the doom postpone.’

  She stopped, and I mulled over the strange words. 'Fine. I do not say I believe in any of this, you understand?' She smiled, and I continued, 'I see that the Bear came, roared, for I was there when Mother died and Father screamed. So were you. I, the Raven, the fool, fell into his traps. I see the bastard vitka trying to take me on a final road where I would bleed, but I have refused him this. Rest is meaningless; no heart will be rent on any plate. What does Ishild and my child have to do with this?'

  She shrugged. 'Yes, Hraban, all that is still ahead. But what of the sister and brother?'

  'What of it?' I asked, sullenly.

  'The children she will bear? The ones to continue Odo's line after the world is ended?' she prompted. 'The girl born by Ishild? Her name is Lif, by the way.'

  'Lif? My girl has no name yet. You are saying the sister and brother are Ishild and Odo?' Then it hit me. 'He means to make children with Ishild?'

  She nodded. 'He means to. You whelped one on her first, and he does not know how that will work. Perhaps it is enough he takes the baby for himself when she is born, and then Odo takes her and makes the ill-omened boy, but you and poor Ishild made him uncertain of the success of his delicate plans. At least it delayed them, for if he has to make her pregnant for the third time, and get rid of your baby …'

  'Stop!' I screamed and pushed her away. 'She is not to be spoken about like that! That is sick. Why …'

  She placed a hand on my shoulder. 'You cannot stay away from her or be in control of anything. Odo will want your child, and he cannot let go of Ishild. She will never be safe. I know you have feelings for me, but you feel obliged to your child and her. Like Tear fears for Veleda, with good cause. She is indeed to die; her blood will not do. You are a better man than I thought you would be, but your child is your weakness. Odo knows it, and it will not be a game you control, nor is it your move. So, I cannot trust you to make sensible choices if you go. You are a father, I think a good one, and few parents have their wits about them when their child is so threatened. If you go, you will face peril and still be the underdog. Odo will expect you.'

  I saw in her eyes she hoped I would deny her claims, that I could indeed leave all my life behind and stay here, where they could guard me against Odo. If I never went near Ishild or Odo, then possibly I would be a man to make sacrifices, one to deny the prophecy. Terrible things would happen to my unborn child and Ishild, but I would live, and so would the gods. That might even sate Vago.

  She poked me to get my attention. 'Give me the oath you will leave your daughter and Ishild in danger of Odo, rather than risk all. Give me the oath now, and I believe you.' I tried to form the words, but could not. I could not tell another lie. If I had left when Tear told me to, I would not have such a hard choice now. Wyrd.

  'I have feelings for you, Shayla, but I cannot leave my daughter or Ishild in their hands, and I know it will be a game of terrible chances I would play if I got to leave. I would put her above the gods,' I said, miserable, in rage at the thought of the filthy Odo taking Ishild to bed and my daughter for himself, maybe killing her.

  She took a shuddering breath. 'A selfless act could still change everything, the lines say. But how could you make one if it means losing your daughter? So, you cannot be trusted, and my father commands me. He wants me to give you to the gods, to save them and make him their favorite.' She wept gently, and I stroked her.

  'I am sorry, Shayla,' I told her, sad.

  'My father is a hard man,' she said, 'as hard as yours.' She sat there calmly for a while and then turned to me, resolute. 'Tomorrow, I have to send you to another world. Do not fight it, I beg. I will do you one favor though. I will travel with you, and guide you,' she told me and kissed me. 'I am a druid, and Vago is my father, but he is sick in his mind, and has done things to me I wish to forget, and you have helped me forget them. So I will make him a god and help you along, as I will help myself.'

  We spent that night together, even if she was to be elsewhere.

  I did not promise her to go to the next world easy.

  CHAPTER XXI

  I spent the following day on my own. The pale moon would be full that night, and my fate would be decided. The air felt just a bit cold like the faintest icy breeze of the north was probing the lands, a rumor of the coming winter. I weighed the choices before me. I thought about Shayla, and I think I loved her back then. She was not complicated. Ishild was; she harbored secrets and thick barriers that I could not cross, deep secrets that bound her to her family. Ermendrud was a lovely girl, but I did not love her, and she was to be married if Wandal had survived. Gunda was far, far away.

  A thought of the Gaul girl Cassia flickered to my mind, sitting bound on the Sigambri ship, kicking and cursing her captors angrily, but Shayla was here, and she was exactly what she said she was. She was not happy, perhaps, but she was strong, very intelligent, amusing when she was teased, knowing how to shoot back and laugh. She was totally honest, and we made gentle love, I was sure of that. With Ermendrud, it had been mostly lust, but I was never sure if there was more to it. Ishild? I had not even known it was her that one time. I could be happy with Shayla.

  But the girl wanted me dead.

  If I died, nothing would matter. If I survived, I needed to get my child safe from Odo. I would not abandon Ishild to such a fate. She had betrayed me, but I could not let Odo have her, and Odo would not stop before he lay dead, if then. I gritted my teeth in desperation. He should not touch her. I realized Shayla was right. I would not make sane, well thought out decisions after I left, if I managed it. I would fight like a mad badger. And if I was to go back, then Maroboodus would have to die for his terrible crime, and so would the bastard Catualda.

  I would risk the prophecy. I decided I had the right to do so.

  If I wanted my revenge, I would have it, and the gods be damned. Did the others of my forgone, ancient family, the men and possibly women carrying the curse of the prophecy, the other Ravens and Bears, have to endure such sacrifices? Of their very honor, of their unborn, lovely child? I doubted it. If I could save Veleda, I would. I always intended to. But, I would take my chances.

  So be it, I thought.

  Revenge, and curse the filth of wyrd. I gave myself an oath to live as I wished and smiled in relief as the oaths I had broken suddenly meant little to me. I thought of Adalfuns the Crafter, and I thought I saw him smile as I tried to forgive myself for the past. It would haunt my future dreams, the past mistakes, but I had a life to live. I would be a lord and a man, and in time, gain what I had lost, by my own actions. I thought of Hulderic and his claim that honor was all, but gods know what is honorable and how honor forms. It worked like any growth, I thought. Honor grew like a boy into a man, and mine was just a toddler still, and it took mistakes to find the right path. I would be a man, and I needed no one to sponsor me nor a Thing to make it so. I felt lonely at these thoughts, but I swore to myself I would find my own path.

  But first, I had to survive.

  Evening fell, and I prepared. I waited, and the large, yellow moon was now up in the bright, cloudless sky full
of lights, and it was full and cold as my fate. Two burly guards came to me in glittering iron armor, wearing short swords and axes, and they had some slaves with them who carried thick ropes and a small barrel. They were hooded in dark cloth and very nervous. I got up.

  'Time to go, Marcomanni,' the other one said, and they tied my hands behind my back.

  We went out, and a guard grabbed my shoulder roughly. 'The helmet,' he said and pointed up. Vago was standing at an open window, wearing a green linen shirt. He saluted me and held up my helmet.

  'It will be remembered, Hraban, I will thank you for my coming glories! The helmet of the Raven! I, the slayer of the harbinger of doom!' he yelled drunkenly and grinned. I ignored him and saw he wore my sword on his hip, and to my disbelief, I heard Catualda speaking in the room. He was there. Why? Was that fate? If I survived, he would not.

  I was led to the pillared passageway that led down to the earth, the one Shayla had exited the day I arrived. The guards nodded at the slaves who took up two torches and gingerly started to descend the uneven, rough steps glistening with moisture. A musty, pungent smell filled my nostrils. The guards showed me forward, and I went down, following the torches as they lighted the way down. We came to a wide, huge cave, and a curious sound was the first thing I noticed. It was not a roar, but a sparkling, gurgling sound as if some underground god was sucking the water down to another, faraway world. I squinted as a figure was moving in the cave.

  It was Shayla.

  She was in her dark robe this time, with a grave look on her face, nervously grinding her hands. I walked up to her, but the guards made me kneel before I got there. Then they dragged me behind her altar. On the stone slab were the familiar bronzed goblets, filled with yellowish liquid. A fire was roaring in the middle of the room, casting light and shadows around the area. The roof was covered in smoke though it did not increase, so there was a hole, or many, up there.

  I looked around. It was an underground hall, the walls were hung with gray and white stalactites, and I could not see the ceiling. Water was flowing down many of the walls and in the back, where the light barely touched, was a huge stone wall that hosted bizarre streaks, mad swirls and mysterious coils that stones sometimes sported. Many thought them made by the dwarves, and if so, this cave had housed them once. In the corner, there was a bed and long drapes, fat barrels of curious substances, a used cauldron and some rough kettles, spoons and knives. An abode of a druidess.

  On the right, I noticed a moving, living object, and I jumped back. The guards snickered, and I looked closely. In the uneven light it looked unnatural at first, but then I noticed it was water, the stream making the curious sound. One of the rivers rode under here, as well as above. That was where the sucking noise came from. I shuddered at the sight of the water going under the stone. It seemed cold and merciless, and I wondered how many screaming men and women she had sent there. She was looking at me as I kneeled there, scanning the place I was to die in. She was a woman worth having. Full of the gods, yet vulnerable and gentle, with a sense of dry humor. Hard as winter and soft as a feather she was, but she would not yield on her beliefs. I wondered what she would be like in some other place, far away, where she had no duties. What she would be like if I stayed here with her, and forgot my revenge, and Ishild. It did not matter.

  Wyrd.

  She glanced at me sadly, and the guards were shuffling uncertainly. She gestured at the slaves to fetch a mat with intricate Celtic signs on its rough surface. It was a black and white thing, and heavy enough to make the slaves grunt with the effort of lifting it. Yet they did so, and she then whispered to them. They carried it by the water and rolled it open. 'Go then,' she said, dismissing the men.

  'Lady, we were supposed to …' the other guard started, but she pointed them up the stairs.

  'It is not for your eyes, warrior,' she told them sternly, and they blanched, evidently more terrified of the druidess than of Vago. We were waiting for them all to leave. The slaves went last, taking the torches with them, and so we stood in the half-dark, looking at each other.

  'If things were different, Hraban, you would be mine, and I, yours,' she said.

  'If things were different, Shayla, my dear mother would live, I would be very happy, and we would never have met each other. Why speculate on that? We had some good moments; all the Spinners would give us. You wish me to drink?' She looked hurt but nodded. I tensed, getting ready to fight. It would be desperate with my hands tied behind my back.

  'I need you to drink. It will make it easier for you and less painful. I do not need to ask the guards to come back?' she asked, fingering her dagger, and my eyes darkened as I realized it was the same knife that had slain Mother.

  I shook my head slowly as I eyed the blade. 'No, I will drink,' I said, my mind whirling. I gazed at the streaming water. 'Won't I go to Rán if I die here, captured by her filthy nets?'

  'I will travel with you, you need not fear the sea goddess,' she said and turned. 'Soon, we will meet the goddess of the rivers again, and you will see your mother.'

  I glanced at the edge of the water, and I understood I was to be drowned there, or to bleed out in the water, like Mother had. She turned and dodged behind the altar, then walked to the other side for the bed, searching for something, and I looked at the filled goblets and tried to tug at my tied hands. They were tightly bound. In the dark cave, Mercury, the Roman god of thieves, or Woden, my tricky god, gave me a desperate idea. I reached forward with my teeth, grabbed the goblet nearest to me, moved it next to hers and then, too slowly and sweating with deep concentration, my back aching in the awkward position, I lifted hers closer to me.

  Some wine spilled.

  I cursed as I laid the goblet where my goblet had been and slowly straightened myself. She was still occupied, and I glanced at the goblets. They were not perfectly placed. I felt I had a drop of wine on my lips, and saw that some had indeed spilled on the white linen.

  She came back and smiled at me, holding a bound scroll. Then she took out a wand made of white tree, and I groaned. I had enough of such contraptions to last a lifetime. She was soon swaying in front of the altar, and her gorgeous lips, which had caressed me the whole week, were mumbling to her river goddess. Then, very soon, she opened her eyes, ate a gnarled, cut root from the altar, and I was sure she noticed something strange about the goblets, but she did not say anything. I struggled with panic as she stopped chewing. 'The goddess hears, and is waiting for us,' she said dreamily, swallowing the remains of the root.

  I grunted. 'I would go to Woden. Give me a blade, and I shall go and fight your father.'

  She smiled. 'My goddess, Abnoba, is here. Drink.'

  I smiled back, swallowing my panic, said my prayer to Woden, and swallowed the wine she offered me carefully. She drank from her own goblet, draining it. She prayed gently until her voice took on an unsteady cadence, and then she was behind me, her hands on my shoulders. She started to push me towards the water, and she grabbed the scroll she had found near her bed. I did not feel lightheaded, but I pretended to wobble.

  With a light and gentle laugh, she helped me stumble forward. 'I am sorry, it was a heavy dose. Here, a few more steps,' she said and guided me to the rug, on to my knees next to the water. 'It is time, Hraban,' she murmured. I turned my head up so that I could see her face above me.

  'Aren't you afraid you will become pregnant from what we have been doing?' I asked her.

  She laughed. 'What was in my drink today will prevent any child growing inside me, but I would have liked that very much.' She grabbed my thick, dark hair, got up and started to push me to the water. 'The holy water waits you, and we will travel, oh, goddess of the river, Abnoba. I call you, and bring you him …' she nodded at me and drew a dagger.

  She stopped, gasped in surprise, and the dagger fell from her nerveless hand as she fell sideways next to the water.

  I was laughing, laughing so hard that my eyes stung, and my belly hurt. 'What …' she asked, and her nails made
sharp sounds on the wet rock as she tried to move.

  'Well, at least I cannot get pregnant after today. I drank yours, and you drank mine,' I said as I lay on my side, struggling to pull my hands under my legs, barely managing it.

  I got up and clumsily took up the knife she had dropped. I held the thing that had killed my mother and wanted to throw it to the river, but I needed it. My hands were still tied, so it was awkward to position the knife between my legs. I managed it too, started to saw at the thick, stubborn rope, grunting like an animal, wounding myself, but not badly. I was free and stood above her. I was confused. I loved her care and understanding, and her fine, delicate beauty, and I also hated her dedication to the gods and her part in my Mother's death, but did she have a choice? I loved her.

  'Hraban, I … you will destroy everything. This is what I meant when I said you will choose … wrong.' She was swooning on the rock as I went to my knees next to her.

  'You are right. But come what may, I decide. None else. If I am not good enough to make such decisions, then the damned world ends, and perhaps it is just. Woden failed in his first men, as well. We are all flawed, Shayla. If I am successful and worthy, then my child will have a father instead of the filth of Odo in some deep hole of Gulldrum, they so love,' I said softly as I stroked her face. 'And a mother. My daughter will have that, even if I do not trust her, or love her, Ishild. She will have her a mother that I no longer have, Shayla. And for losing my family, my honor, I have much blood to shed as well. Men cannot ignore these things, be they god-cursed harbingers of death or not.' I looked at the sharp knife and thought about slashing her throat. I laid the blade on her neck, and she did not resist, and then I brought it up, ready to stab her in the dark cave. 'You will not let me go, I suppose?' I asked bitterly, and her eyes hardened.